


Orophobia

by getoffmyhead



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bye Week, Consent Issues, Dark, Horror, M/M, Snowed In, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead
Summary: When he was twelve years old, Zhenya's father took him camping in the Ural mountains, and he became hopelessly lost. He thought he was alone until something came out of the trees to greet him. A fairy tale creature he learned about from his superstitious grandmother: a wild thing.It wasn't real, of course. It was the work of a child's terrified imagination, but it put a lifelong fear of the mountains in Zhenya. He successfully avoided them for twenty years until, with bye week approaching, Sid asked, "What if we go skiing this year?"
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 69
Collections: Sid/Geno Spooky Fest 2020





	Orophobia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plethoriall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethoriall/gifts).



> plethoriall, I loved your prompts! I used two of them as jumping off points for this story. I hope you enjoy it!

There was no wind on the mountain, uncommon for a snowstorm. It was as if the clouds, exhausted from their travels, had reached their destination and simply stopped. The snow fell in flakes so big they were like leaves drifting down from the trees. Even if the storm had brought the first snow of the year, it would have fallen on accumulation. People said snow on those mountains was left from the ice ages, never melted, perfectly preserved.

"Papa!"

Zhenya's boots protected the lower part of his legs up to midcalf, and his snow pants were waterproof, but there was no escaping the cold. Each step sunk deeper into the rising powder, and his legs were numb up to the knees.

"Papa," Zhenya called. His voice grew scratchy from cold and dehydration, but mostly from overuse. He had been calling for a long time—hours.

It was midday the last time he saw his father and brother. That was before he fell behind, before they had disappeared over a ridge. He had forced his legs to run after them, but when he crested the hill, his family was gone.

Zhenya walked while the sun peaked and then began its descent, growing more nervous as he failed to find his family—or anyone. Still, he didn't truly think of himself as lost until the light began to fade and the snow started to build up.

Zhenya was twelve years old, a speck of life amid the oldest mountains in the world, and he was hopelessly lost.

"Papa!" he cried hoarsely, desperately.

Zhenya's father didn't answer, but something else did. A voice like a serpent slithered out of the trees, accompanied by glowing, golden eyes. "Hello."

///

Zhenya jerked awake. His ears registered the hum of jet engines, banishing the eerie silence of the snow on the mountain. He knew where he was—on a charter plane flying into Denver—and he wasn't alone. Above the engine noise, barely recognizable in the distortion, Sid's voice carried back through the cabin.

Zhenya positioned his chair upright and found Sid up at the front of the plane, hunched over to fit his frame in the small entrance to the cockpit. He pointed to something on the plane controls and spoke. The pilot turned back to him with a smile—charmed as most people were by Sid's boundless curiosity. He never liked to sit still, always wanted to see something new.

Which was how Zhenya ended up on the plane in the first place.

They always went to Miami for bye week. They had gone each of the three years since they got together, a routine folded into the fabric of their relationship—or so Zhenya thought. He was shocked when bye week approached, and Sid abruptly changed course.

"What if we go skiing this year?"

An icy spike of fear had speared through Zhenya at the proposal, and the fright made him react badly. He had made snippy remarks for a week, suggesting that if Sid wanted to _leave_ him, they could split up and do bye week apart.

Sid's laugh cut into the memory of their fights. He was joking around with the pilot. Fondness and fear formed a double helix that made up Zhenya's emotional state. He didn't want to disappoint Sid, but he had successfully avoided mountains for twenty years.

In the end, Zhenya caved. He was letting his irrational fear get in the way of his relationship. He booked the charter himself and emailed the itinerary to Sid, who burst into his office and kissed him. It was worth it, Zhenya told himself. Sid's enthusiasm was worth living in a cold sweat for four days while he dreamed of monsters in the trees. 

But that's all it was—dreams. The monster wasn't in the trees; it was in his head, conjured by the wild imagination of a lost, scared child and grown in the hazy void of memory.

The war between Zhenya's rationality and primal fear raged on while Sid, carefree, joked around with the pilot. Sid's residual smile brightened when he turned and found Zhenya awake. Yeah, it was worth it.

They landed in Denver in the late morning. Sid spent a long time bidding goodbye to the pilot, chitchatting about the best place to get dinner once they settled in Vail.

Zhenya stood in the door of the plane, in no hurry to depart. He could see the mountains in the distance—looming.

"Well, I hope you two enjoy," the pilot said behind him. "And take it from me. If you want to ruin your diet, there's a little hole in the wall bakery in Dillon that makes the best cookies you'll ever taste."

"I'll keep it in mind," Sid said. Zhenya could hear the smile in his voice. The conversation was ending. The time was fast approaching when Zhenya would need to take a step toward the mountains.

Sid put a hand on Zhenya's lower back and stopped beside him, peering out. "They're beautiful, don't you think?"

Zhenya bit down on his instinct to say something mean. Sid seemed so delighted with their destination.

"They get prettier up close," Sid said pointedly, nudging gently where his hand rested. "Want to get going?"

The bile threatening to rise up in Zhenya's throat said no—not only no, but _fuck_ no.

It was a dream, Zhenya repeated to himself, willing his right foot forward. He had been a child lost in the snow and the dark, and he had made up the sinister voice between the trees, the golden eyes. His feet thumped onto each step, heavy with reluctance.

"There," Sid said brightly when they reached the tarmac. "We've officially arrived. Do you need to Instagram this or anything?"

Sid was teasing, trying hard to buoy Zhenya's mood up out of the depths, but it was drowning in fear. Zhenya shook his head.

Sid's smile dimmed. He wasn't oblivious, just hopeful. "Okay, let's go get the car then."

///

When Sid had proposed renting a cabin instead of staying at a ski resort, Zhenya had balked. He had envisioned some small, creaky shack with a wrought iron stove and a few rats scurrying around. But, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to agree. After a week of making Sid miserable with his nasty comments, he had a lot to make up for.

Zhenya's hopes began to rise when he saw the neighborhood the GPS brought them too—large houses with tall gates. Sure enough, Sid pulled off the main road onto a private one, then onto a long driveway that wound through the trees until it stopped at the base of a small mansion. At least, Zhenya thought, he wouldn't be living rough while he waited for the thing in between the trees to come eat him.

He shuddered at the reminder of his childhood fear and turned his eyes to the surrounding woods. Without any other sign of life, the house seemed like an intruder, a scar of civilization in the wilderness.

Something touched Zhenya's hand, and he jumped before realizing it was only Sid. When he turned, Sid offered a hopeful but hesitant grin. "Home sweet home—for the next four days, anyways."

Looking at Sid instead of the woods, it was easy to remember why he had agreed to come. Zhenya leaned across the console for a kiss. He could taste the lingering mint from Sid's gum, chewed on the plane to keep his ears from popping.

"I love you," Zhenya said when he pulled away. It hurt to see the relief in Sid's smile, as though he had begun to doubt. Zhenya would take that doubt away if he had to traipse naked through the woods to do it. "Come, show me little cabin."

Sid's smile stretched from relief to real amusement. "Little? I got the biggest one I could find. I knew you'd complain about anything smaller."

"Complain? Me?" Zhenya cried, tongue firmly in cheek. He succeeded, and Sid laughed. It was worth it. 

Zhenya's heart hammered against his ribs, and his instincts pled with him to run, but he ignored them. He followed Sid out of the car and up to the house and only fidgeted a little while Sid punched in the door code to unlock the deadbolt. He darted inside as soon as the door opened, escaping the outside, but he could play it off as eagerness.

The entryway had a tall, vaulted ceiling with huge windows stretching up to the rafters. The light from the midday sun permeated the space, seeping through the expansive windows and spreading a warm glow over the mahogany-accented interior.

"Pretty, eh?" Sid said, coming to a stop beside Zhenya. When Zhenya looked at him, Sid grinned hopefully. He still seemed to think Zhenya might bolt out of the house. Which, to be fair, if the wind blew too loud, Zhenya might.

"It's okay," Zhenya said, letting Sid see the teasing under his sneer. Sid nudged him with an elbow and scoffed.

"Whatever, you're going to love it. It's got all your favorite things. A TV in every room. A popcorn machine. Nice big beds to sleep in all day."

Zhenya scrunched his face up at the mocking. "Not TV here, I don't see."

"That your way of saying you want a tour?"

"Sure, I want to see." Zhenya held out his hand demurely, a challenge he fully expected Sid to ignore. To his delight, Sid refused to back down—too close to losing—and took Zhenya's offered hand to lead him.

Sid must have gotten a pretty good idea of the layout from the online photos because he led Zhenya with the utmost confidence. He would say something like, "I think this should be the den," before he guided them expertly right to where he said he would.

The downstairs tour concluded in the kitchen, where Zhenya let go of Sid to rummage around in the cupboards.

"The owners had the place all stocked up—mostly healthy stuff," Sid said even as Zhenya found and immediately opened a package of Oreos. Zhenya held it out, and Sid chuckled. "You're like one of those truffle-sniffing pigs. How do you always find junk food?"

Sid said it like he wasn't reaching for a cookie. Zhenya pulled the package back before Sid could touch it and crowded up against his neck, snorting like a pig until Sid shook all over with laughter.

It turned out, the owners had also stocked the wine cabinet, something Zhenya discovered when it came time to make dinner. He popped the cork and poured two glasses before Sid even decided between chicken and steak.

"Steak," Zhenya said, curling around Sid's back to look into the open fridge.

Sid turned to beam at him over his shoulder, a relaxed and comfortable expression. "Steak it is," he said and stole a wine-flavored kiss before he bent to take the meat out of the bottom drawer.

The sun went down as they cooked. The windows turned from portals of warm sunlight to vast mirrors, reflecting the interior lights as they ate together. Zhenya played footsie with Sid under the table, grinning at him over the rim of his wine glass. The relief from being in the mountains, at conquering his oldest fear, made Zhenya bold and giddy.

Sid's pink cheeks and delighted smiles helped, too.

Before Sid could touch the dishes to gather them from the table, Zhenya reached across to grasp his hand.

"Where's bedroom?" Zhenya asked. "You don't show me before."

"It's upstairs. Why?"

Zhenya let his smile do his talking and jostled Sid's hand like the reins of a horse. "Show me."

"You could find it on your own," Sid said, but that would defeat the purpose. "Let me do the dishes, and I'll meet you—"

"Sid, it's vacation. Dishes can wait."

To his surprise, Sid acquiesced. Instead of reaching for the plates, he downed the rest of his wine. "Okay. Sure. Dishes can wait.

The master bedroom was nearly as big as the living room, with a fireplace taking up most of a wall. Zhenya barely got to glance at it between kisses while Sid backed him toward the bed.

They made love like it was their first time, clothes discarded haphazardly throughout the room as they clutched desperately at each other. Sid impatiently shoved his boxers down while he settled between Zhenya's thighs. Zhenya caught the elastic with his foot and nudged them the rest of the way off while Sid dropped kisses against his jawline and rubbed their dicks together.

Zhenya perked when Sid reached for the table, for the lube he had stashed there when unpacking. He spread his legs wider, eager.

Instead of putting his slick fingers to work on Zhenya's hole, Sid held the lube bottle upside down and grasped for Zhenya's hand. Zhenya complied, malleable to Sid's whims in bed. They usually led somewhere fun. Sid drew a clear line of lube down Zhenya's palm and closed the bottle. Then Sid guided Zhenya's hand down around both of their dicks. 

Zhenya pumped slowly, his grip growing slicker as he worked. He stared down between them as he did it, watching their two cock heads push out of his hand.

With a hiss of inhaled air, Sid reached between them to still Zhenya's hand. He held still when Sid leaned in to prop his body over Zhenya, giving himself room to work. Sid flexed his hips forward and bit his lip when he felt Zhenya's shaft gliding against his. It was an alien feeling, the tightness of Zhenya's grip and the firm friction of their cocks moving together.

It didn't take much for either of them after that. Sid fucked into Zhenya's fist with shuddering breaths until he came. Zhenya waited until Sid stilled to adjust his grip and jerk himself to completion.

Afterward, Sid walked naked across the floor and lit the fire. Zhenya shuffled around to watch him glow in the light as he sauntered back. He paused long enough to snap up a discarded shirt from the floor, bringing it to the bed to mop up the mess on Zhenya's belly.

"We'll be crusty by morning," Sid said in a sleepy tone that indicated he didn't care.

"We can shower after dishes," Zhenya assured him.

"The dishes," Sid groaned as he remembered, burying his face into Zhenya's shoulder.

"It's fine, Sid. One night we don't clean dishes."

Sid raised up to look at Zhenya, fondness painting the soft lines of his smile. "Okay, one night."

///

The air was thin in the Urals. Zhenya's lungs burned as his small legs struggled to keep up. He could see his father's backpack swaying up ahead, hear the song he was whistling. Behind his father, Zhenya's older brother Denis trudged along, unhappy as most teenagers would be to be on a family trip, but keeping up.

Zhenya's foot sunk into two feet of snow, and he toppled over. Ahead, Denis turned to see what the commotion was and laughed.

"Come on, pipsqueak."

"I'm _trying_ ," Zhenya snapped, wadding up a loose ball of snow to lob. It fell short of Denis' face and landed at his feet.

Denis chuckled his way back to Zhenya, wrapped a hand around his bicep, and hauled him up out of the drift. "We need to get you some leg days before hockey. You're going to get creamed."

"I'm fine," Zhenya said with a petulant shove at his brother. He hated being reminded of his physical failures.

"Okay, I hear you," Denis said, backing away with his hands up in the air to display his innocence. "You make your own way."

Zhenya pushed his body to follow in Denis and his father's footsteps, concentrating on putting his feet on the trampled snow left behind by their boots.

With his eyes down, Zhenya didn't realize how far behind he was falling. He didn't call for his father or brother. Focused as he was, he didn't know there was a problem until he looked up and saw only trees ahead.

"Papa?" Zhenya said with a fluttering heart. He wasn't panicking, not yet. He could easily get there, but at first, he didn't believe it—didn't think he could be lost. "Denis?"

Hours later, stumbling through the snow with numb feet and frozen tears, he believed.

///

Zhenya jerked awake, hand reflexively reaching across the bed for Sid. His palm landed on cold sheets in the second before his eyes adjusted and saw the empty side of the bed.

"Sid?"

Zhenya scrambled from the bed and downstairs. "Sid!"

He froze when he saw the back door slightly ajar. His heart fluttered like it had when he was a boy—not quite panic, but so very close.

Zhenya forced his feet to move toward the door.

Just before he reached the door, it swung fully open. Zhenya jumped a mile and cursed when he saw Sid appear.

"Hey," Sid said, grinning uncertainly. "You okay? You look spooked."

"Where did you go?"

"Outside. There was this noise. I thought it was a deer or something."

"If it's deer, it's not your problem. Leave it alone," Zhenya said, rushing around Sid to close the door.

"It just sounded kind of—hurt. I don't know. I couldn't find it."

Zhenya gripped Sid's shoulders. The way the bright light entered the windows, it lit Sid's eyes up like petrified amber. Zhenya breathed easier the closer he got. When they kissed, his lungs stopped aching.

"It's okay," Sid said, arms tight around Zhenya's shoulders.

Zhenya nodded and put his face into Sid's sweater. "I don't like to wake up alone," he admitted.

"It's never bothered you before," Sid said, petting Zhenya's back. "Is this part of your thing about cold places?"

"Mountains," Zhenya corrected, mumbling.

"Mountains." Sid rolled the word in his mouth, contemplating. He pulled back to look at Zhenya's face and asked, "Do you hate it here? Should we leave?"

"No," Zhenya said immediately, feeling emotional that Sid would even offer. "We should stay here."

Sid scanned for the truth in Zhenya's expression and came up satisfied—it _was_ the truth. Zhenya wanted to do this for Sid, make it through four days in the mountains. He was ready to conquer his fear.

Sid patted his hip. "Okay, we'll stay. And I won't leave you sleeping again."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet—I'll just wake you up early instead." Sid winked. "Then, we can hit the slopes tomorrow before it gets busy."

Zhenya threw his head back and groaned dramatically, remembering why Sid wanted to hang out in a snowy hellscape in the first place—skiing.

"I know, the things I make you do," Sid teased. "Come on, I'll make breakfast first."

///

He hated to admit it, but Zhenya didn't despise skiing. The motion of zig-zagging down the slopes required many of the same muscles as skating, so he almost immediately got the hang of it. Sid beamed at him, pink from the cold wind, when they completed their first green trail from the top of the mountain down to the resort.

"You're really getting the hang of this," Sid said, delighted.

Zhenya grumbled, but he knew Sid could see his poorly-hidden smile. He was out on a mountain _skiing_ , of all things. His mother would faint when he told her.

"Should we try one harder?" Sid asked.

Sid was pulling the map out—an actual paper map because he was an absolute Luddite sometimes. Zhenya had told him repeatedly, tried to show him even, that Vail had an interactive map for smartphones, but Sid had laughed like he was kidding.

"This one looks okay," Sid continued. "It's nice and long. We could take it all the way down to the main lodge, then head in for lunch."

Zhenya perked at the idea of lunch, and Sid chuckled.

"Thought you might like that. Okay, follow me."

The best part of skiing was riding the lifts, where Zhenya could see the whole terrain and people-watch and sneak his gloved hand onto Sid's thigh. He peered down at the slopes, watching skiers of varying degrees of skill zig-zag down the mountain.

Zhenya's eyes stopped on the tree line, where the figure of a small boy, about twelve years old, stood between two pines. He wasn't wearing skis. He wasn't wearing a coat, either. And he was looking up at the lift.

He was looking straight at Zhenya.

Twenty years and thousands of miles away from the last time he had seen the boy, Zhenya recognized him immediately. He knew if he got closer, the child would have gold eyes. 

Zhenya tapped Sid's thigh. His throat was too tight to speak.

"What's up?" Sid asked, craning to see what Zhenya was looking at.

"The little boy," Zhenya croaked.

"A kid? That's a double black diamond, G. I don't think there's a kid on it."

Zhenya turned his pleading eyes on Sid, hoping to convey that it was not the time to joke around. But he found Sid looking entirely sincere without a hint of kidding in his face. He really didn't see a boy. Zhenya dreaded turning back. When he did, the tree line was empty.

He had imagined it. The Urals were in Russia, a completely different continent. Even if the golden-eyed boy from his youth had been real, he couldn't be in Colorado. It was impossible. Zhenya's mind was playing tricks on him. 

"You okay?" Sid asked, his voice turning worried.

Zhenya forced himself to breathe in slowly. In his memory, a golden-eyed boy from his past smiled like a hyena in the snow. He nodded. Sid's hand found his on the seat between them.

"Let's just do this one and then pack it in for the day. We'll head back to the house and sit by the fire, be lazy."

Zhenya nodded. "If you want," he said, but he knew Sid could hear his relief. When he faced Sid again, he was met with a gentle smile before Sid leaned in to kiss his cold cheek.

Zhenya's skin crawled with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched all the way down the slopes. He barely got out of his skis before bolting for the lodge, anxious to get inside and away from the itch of eyes on him.

///

Zhenya dreamed of the little boy.

Only, in the dream, the boy wasn't little. He was the same size as Zhenya, at a height or possibly a little taller. He had golden eyes and dark hair, and he smiled like a hyena from between the trees.

"What's your name?" the boy asked.

Even as a child, Zhenya knew better than to offer his name to the wild things. His grandmother had infused him with warnings shaped like stories since he could remember. His feet were frozen, numbness creeping up his legs and into his torso, but he knew to keep his mouth shut. He shook his head. The golden-eyed boy swung around a tree trunk like Zhenya would a street sign and leaped nimbly down into the snow, peering closely at Zhenya.

"You look like a Zhenya to me."

The frozen numbness in Zhenya's body stabbed upward into his heart. He must have shown the truth with his face because the boy's grin widened across his impish face.

"You're lost. Your father is calling you."

"My father?" Zhenya asked and then clamped a hand over his mouth. His grandmother had told him he wasn't supposed to give any information to the wild things—not even if they seemed to know it already.

"He's just ahead," the boy said eagerly, tapping his toes in the snow. "He's made a fire to guide you and warm you. I will take you to him."

"No," Zhenya said. His grandmother had told him what happened to boys who followed the wild things.

The boy’s smile grew—not larger, but _sharper_. For a moment, Zhenya thought he could see the thing behind the boy. He wondered if the body was actually human—another child lost in the snow like him. He shuddered when he thought about what that might mean for him.

"You're afraid," the boy said. "But you have courage. I like that."

Zhenya swallowed and stepped back when the boy approached. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would I kill you?"

"That's what you do," Zhenya said, sniffling. He shouldn't be talking to it, but his legs were so tired. He couldn't run, not even knowing what the wild thing would do—take his body, pretend to be Zhenya just like it was pretending to be this other dark-haired boy.

"I don't want your outside, stupid," the wild thing said. "I want your inside. Your heart."

"My heart?"

The thing in the boy's body drew a sharp fingertip across Zhenya's chest in an X shape. "It's very full, isn't it? Full of bravery and stubbornness and—love. You love a lot of people." The thing's golden eyes flicked up to him. "What's one more? You can love me."

"Love you?" Zhenya cried, repelled. He lurched backward, but his frozen legs failed him. He stumbled over a tree branch. The last thing he remembered was wobbling, a pain in his head. Then peace.

///

Zhenya was barely done falling away from his golden-eyed nightmare when Sid shook him gently awake. The light from the window was still pink and orange from the sunrise instead of the bright white of day time.

"Morning," Sid said.

"No, it's still nighttime," Zhenya groaned, but he tipped his chin up for a kiss—the least Sid could give him for waking him unreasonably early.

Sid put his hand on Zhenya's chest, then rested his chin on top of it. "I was thinking. What if we go hiking today?"

"Hiking?"

"Yeah, you weren't that into skiing."

"We come here to ski."

Sid shrugged. "I came here to be with you."

Zhenya called Sid a flatterer in Russian, which was not one of the fifteen words Sid could marginally understand.

"And, you know, hiking is a little more low key. A little more private," Sid said, grin widening with the spread of pink across his cheeks. "We could make out at the peak, nobody there to see us but the deer."

The nightmare flapped its wings across Zhenya's mind. Hiking in the woods was quite literally his worst fear.

But he couldn't get away from the paranoia on the slopes. There, he had imagined his golden-eyed demon in the trees. Maybe if he faced his fear head-on, his mind could untangle facts from fiction and leave him in peace.

"Only make out?" Zhenya asked, slyly agreeing to the hike.

"You want more, eh?" Sid said, tickled by the naughty implication and unaware of Zhenya's internal struggle.

"Maybe little bit more."

"I'm not having sex with you on top of a mountain."

"Who says sex?" Zhenya asked, wide-eyed with feigned innocence.

"Uh-huh. Well, just so we're clear, it's not happening. You won't even want to once we're up there. It'll be freezing."

"I bring warm coat," Zhenya said, leering as he kicked out of bed. Sid was probably right that they wouldn't want to do anything involving removing clothes when they got to the peak, but he liked the fantasy. And if he was going to face his fears in a big way, he would need some motivation, real or pretend.

Three hours later, Zhenya regretted his acquiescence about hiking—not because he was afraid, but because he was desperately _bored_.

Thankfully, the trail was nothing like the one Zhenya had traversed with his father and Denis in his distant memory. It was mostly clear of snow, and what little remained was packed down for easy walking. Nothing about the hike brought back memories of his time lost in the Urals, though he might have preferred to be afraid. It would break up the monotony.

Zhenya pulled out his phone and raised it up, hoping he would have signal, but like the last dozen times, it gave him nothing.

"How much longer?" Zhenya asked, trudging along the narrow trail between an endless wall of trees.

"Three minutes less than the last time you asked," Sid called over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with amusement at Zhenya's misery. He laughed out loud when Zhenya groaned.

They reached the peak just after noon. The trail led them out of the trees and up to a rocky plateau. As they cleared the tree line, the landscape opened up, showcasing a horizon of mountains as far as they could see. The sky, grey with unhappy clouds, muted the vibrance of the landscape, but it was still breathtaking.

"We got pretty lucky," Sid said, pointing at the sky. "This time tomorrow, I think this trail is going to be under a foot of new snow."

"You can tell from sky?"

"Well, and the weather app," Sid admitted. "I checked it before we started up. We're in for a heck of a storm."

Zhenya eyed the sky warily. "Maybe we should go back."

"Nah, a little snow won't kill us, and we'll be back at the house before it really starts to fall. Let's stick to the plan."

"Make out?"

Sid's laugh burst out of him, unguarded and joyful. "I was going to say lunch, but sure." He shuffled close and pecked Zhenya on the lips. "There. Happy?"

Zhenya grasped at Sid when he tried to pull away. He kept tugging until Sid pressed their lips together for real, chuckles fading against Zhenya's mouth while they kissed, slow and easy, in the quiet of the mountain top.

They pulled a blanket out of Sid's backpack and spread it on the ground to sit and eat their sandwiches. While it certainly could have been warmer, Zhenya found that his coat did an adequate job holding off most of the chill.

When he finished eating, Zhenya got up and knee-walked over to Sid. He swung a leg over Sid's lap, leering.

"You can't be serious," Sid said with an uncertain little grin.

Zhenya smirked. He wasn't serious about having sex in the snow, but he also wasn't going to back down from it. If Sid wanted to chicken out, he would have to be the one to tap.

Which was how they ended up jerking each other off under their snow pants, carefully keeping sensitive parts from exposure to the air. Zhenya nipped at Sid's lower lip while he moved his hand. His wrist was uncomfortable in the confines of Sid's pants, but Sid was juggling his balls just right. He didn't want to stop.

The snow must have started about the time Zhenya came, when he was too busy to notice. He had his face buried in Sid's shoulder, groaning through the peak of his pleasure while he tried to focus on keeping his own hand moving. Sid helped, leaning back and flexing his hips to push himself over.

Zhenya only noticed the dusting of snow on their coats in the afterglow. Then he sat up ramrod straight. "Shit."

"What?" Sid asked, looking around for a problem.

"Snow, Sid. Look."

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, it's not supposed to really start until later."

But Sid must have read the true anxiety in Zhenya's face because he immediately changed course.

"Okay," Sid said, clapping Zhenya on the thigh. "You pack up. I'll be right back."

"Where you going?" Zhenya asked as he got up.

"Just got to pee—two minutes."

Zhenya watched Sid walk away uneasily and waited until he dipped out of sight to start gathering the remains of their cold picnic.

He had everything loaded back into the bag and had been pacing for a couple of minutes when he realized—Sid was taking an awfully long time.

"Hey, you go home to pee?"

Zhenya's insides flash froze when Sid didn't respond.

"Sid?" he called, walking in the direction where he last saw Sid.

Sid was nowhere to be found.

"Sid! This not funny, okay? Not prank!"

Zhenya's breath came faster at the silence in answer.

"Sid!" he cried, pulling out his phone. Still no signal. "Shit. Sid, answer me!"

But Sid did not answer.

It took Zhenya a full minute of frantic thinking before he came to a rational conclusion: Sid had slipped and fallen and was unconscious. He needed Zhenya to find him. Zhenya stared at the trees where Sid had disappeared with his heart in his throat, momentarily too afraid to move. When Zhenya could force his feet forward, he held his breath as he plunged into the tree line.

Between the trees, Zhenya was twelve years old again, lost and calling for someone who would not—or could not—answer. "Sid!"

Zhenya tried to keep to the same pattern, walking a small loop out and back to the clearing where they had set up camp. That way, he could cover an area without risking getting lost himself. When it became clear that Sid was nowhere in the vicinity of the clearing, Zhenya took longer treks out in straight lines, following his own footsteps back.

He did that until the snow began to cover his tracks. He could barely make out enough to get back to the clearing one final time. The snow fell like a curtain, obscuring his vision. He could no longer see the distant mountains. The air felt too thick to breathe. Zhenya bent double, wheezing in little gasps.

Zhenya wasn't sure when he had lost cell signal on the three-hour trail. He had no idea how long he would have to leave Sid to regain it, call for help. But the snow was falling faster by the minute—big, fat flakes that would soon pile up so that maybe rescuers wouldn't be able to find Sid at all.

Zhenya had to get help.

"I'm sorry," Zhenya said, breath coming in shallow hiccups. "Sid, if you can hear, I get help. I come right back."

"Back from where?"

Zhenya spun around at Sid's voice, heart hammering against his breastbone. "Sid!" he cried and lurched forward to gather Sid up in his arms.

Sid's hands came up slowly and closed around Zhenya's back.

"What the fuck, Sid?" Zhenya asked into his shoulder, hugging him even tighter.

"What the fuck," Sid repeated slowly.

"It's been a hour—I think you're dead or something."

"Not quite."

Zhenya pulled back to look him in the face. "You hit your head?"

Sid blinked. In the light from the snow, just for a moment, Zhenya thought he saw a flash of gold replacing the dark maple of Sid's eyes. "Yes—I hit my head."

"We should go to doctor—hospital. Let's go."

"No, I'm fine now."

"Sid—"

"I'm fine. I want to go home with you. Will you take me?"

Zhenya floundered. He knew the right answer, particularly with Sid's concussion history. They should head straight to the hospital.

But he could also see why Sid wouldn't want to. If he went to the hospital in Colorado, the nosy media would sink their greedy claws into his business. There would be reports and speculation about his status and endless cycles of people proclaiming the end of his career—again.

"Okay," Zhenya agreed. "We go home. But we call team, okay?"

Sid cocked his head curiously. "Team. Okay."

If Sid kept acting funny, Zhenya told himself he could always insist on a hospital run later. He could call an ambulance. Or, ideally, he could let the team be the bad guys and demand those things for him.

Zhenya dropped his hand into Sid's and squeezed. "Come, let's go."

///

The snow had built up on the driveway by the time they got back to the big, remote house in the woods. Zhenya's knuckles were sore from gripping the wheel. He had to ease his fingers out of their clenched position.

In the passenger seat, Sid stared out at the grey sky with big eyes, silent.

"Sid?" Zhenya asked gingerly. He didn't know whether they could get down the mountain in the snow to get to a hospital. As spacey as Sid seemed, Zhenya was more than willing to call in a helicopter if he needed to. "You feel okay? Head hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt."

Zhenya nodded. Sid was always stubborn about these things, but the trainers could read right through him. "Okay, let's get in and call the team."

Zhenya kicked open the driver's door and got out. He realized halfway to the house that he hadn't heard the second door. He turned around slowly and could just see Sid staring down at the door handle. Zhenya's insides twisted up—something was wrong. Sid was not okay. But a glance down the driveway compounded his unease. If he tried to get them to a hospital now, if he insisted, they could wreck. Then what?

Instead, Zhenya resignedly returned to the car and opened the passenger door. Sid watched it swing open with a bemused smile and finally moved to get out.

When Sid was out and the door was closed, Zhenya took his hand and walked him inside the house. "Where is phone?"

"Phone?" Sid asked.

"Never mind," Zhenya said, pulling his own phone out. "I call." It was the only way he could guarantee the call would be placed. In his state, Sid might accidentally call his favorite wood-fired pizza place and tell _them_ about his accident.

To Zhenya's warring dismay and relief, Dr. Vyas agreed that it was better for Sid to rest at the house than attempt a dangerous drive down the mountain in the snow.

"Of course, it's not ideal," Dr. Vyas said to Zhenya when he took the phone back from Sid. "But if he can follow a conversation, stay awake while sitting down, it's probably mild. The emergency room would likely tell you the same, and then you would be faced with bringing him back up the road in even worse conditions. If you'll just keep an eye on him, keep me updated, we'll know if we need to act within the next day."

"In a day, we're underneath snow," Zhenya said, peering out between the wood blinds in the dining room at the rapidly-accumulating powder.

"If it's bad enough, we'll arrange a way out. Trust me, we don't want you driving in this."

"Okay, I will text. Tell you how he is."

"Day or night, Geno, I mean it. Text me everything you think might be a symptom."

"Yes," Zhenya said, still watching the snow. "I will."

The line clicked when the doctor hung up. Zhenya turned back and jumped. Sid was standing inches away, watching him.

"You scare me," Zhenya said. Instead of laughing and apologizing, Sid cocked his head.

"What did the doctor say?"

"He said we stay here, wait for snow to go away. Then we can drive down."

Sid's face flickered with a series of emotions: interest, relief, and then irritation.

"I don't need to go."

"I know, baby," Zhenya said, placating. It would do no good to have the fight hours before the storm broke. He could struggle with Sid when the sun came out. "We don't have to go yet."

Sid didn't look entirely mollified by Zhenya's assurance, but his scowl softened as his eyes turned to the window. He slowly smiled. "The storm will be much worse than you think."

"You look it up again?"

Sid smiled serenely and watched the grey sky until his eyes flicked to Zhenya. "What should we do?"

"You need rest. Go take shower and lay down. I come in two minutes."

Zhenya started to step away, but Sid snatched his hand in a hard grip. "No, you should come with me."

"To sleep?"

"Don't leave me."

It was a rare display of open emotion from Sid. Zhenya usually encouraged such communication, coaxed more vulnerable words out of him before he could close down, but this—Zhenya felt a chill up his body. After a beat, he realized that the cold was at least partly coming from Sid's hand on his.

"You're cold like ice," Zhenya said, brushing away his discomfort in favor of cupping Sid's hand between his own. "Come, shower, right now."

Zhenya took charge of steering Sid to the bathroom and turning the taps on the shower. When Sid made no move to take his clothes off, Zhenya started that process, too. He flicked the button on Sid's jeans and dragged the zipper down.

"Oh," Sid said. He sounded breathless.

"Stop it," Zhenya scolded him gently—it was no time to get frisky. "Get shirt, come on. Get in shower."

Sid clumsily dragged his shirt up and over his head while Zhenya pushed his jeans and underwear down. He stepped out of them completely nude and padded toward the shower. Then he stopped short, turning back to stare inquisitively at Zhenya. It was a message Zhenya received loud and clear, and he sighed while stripping his own clothes off.

Under the spray of warm water, Sid showed more interest in gingerly touching Zhenya's skin than going anywhere near the shampoo. His fingertips tickled along Zhenya's ribs, eyes following the trail of his fingers like he was touching something precious and couldn't believe it.

Zhenya reached for the shampoo. "Where is hurt?"

"Hurt?"

"Head," Zhenya said, holding up the bottle for significance. Sid only blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Okay, tell me if I touch."

Sid scanned his face and nodded. When Zhenya reached for his hair, he leaned into the touch with a shuddering exhale. "That's—very good," he said.

"Not hurt?"

"You can't hurt me," Sid said, eyes half-closed. When Zhenya's hands stopped moving, his eyelids flicked back open. "Keep going."

Zhenya resumed massaging Sid's scalp. "I can't hurt you?"

Sid groaned and let his head roll down. "That's very nice."

"Sid, what you mean—"

"You love me, right?" Sid asked, lifting his head.

"Yes, of course."

"Say it."

"I love you. Sid—"

"Good," Sid said. He dropped his head and wrapped his hands around Zhenya's wrists to guide him back into working the shampoo into his hair. Zhenya did it with an uneasy knot in his stomach, wondering if they should have gone to the hospital while they had the chance.

A cold hand touched Zhenya's dick, and he jumped to push it away. "Sid, no. It's not—"

"You said you love me," Sid said, hand squirming in Zhenya's grasp.

"I do—"

"You wanted to outside before."

"Before you hit head—that's different."

"Don't worry."

Sid's hand slipped away from Zhenya's and contacted his dick before Zhenya caught it again. "Wait," Zhenya said. "After sleep. In morning, maybe."

Sid looked upset and pouted, but he stopped trying.

Zhenya did the bulk of the remaining work to get them both clean and dry, then herded Sid into the bedroom and underneath the covers. Zhenya hardly got settled before Sid wrapped around him, skin still chilly even after the shower. That must be why Sid wanted to cuddle, Zhenya told himself. Sid usually kept to himself in his sleep, but he needed to share warmth.

Zhenya stayed awake for a long time, telling himself that everything would be okay, hoping that he could force himself to believe it.

///

Zhenya woke up shivering and knew before he opened his eyes that the power was off. A glimpse at the dark digital alarm clock on the bedside table only confirmed it. The light from the window offered no assistance in telling the approximate time. It could be moonlight bouncing off the snow as much as sunlight through grey clouds.

"You're awake," Sid's voice said behind him. He sounded unworried about the power.

"Yeah," Zhenya groaned. "I leave my phone downstairs, I think. I go get."

"Why?"

"Power," Zhenya said, gesturing around. "We need call someone."

Sid smiled and shook his head. "No, it's okay."

"Sid, it's freezing."

Sid blinked like he didn't understand what Zhenya could possibly mean by that. "You're cold," he said slowly, as though the concept were only just dawning on him. "I see. We should make a fire."

"I can just call, and someone will come. We can go—"

"No!" Sid snapped. In the pale light with his face contorted with anger, Sid's eyes again appeared to flash gold instead of brown. Zhenya recoiled, helpless to resist his sudden bolt of fear.

But when Zhenya dared to look again, Sid's eyes were normal, and the anger in his face had disappeared. He replaced it with a placating smile. "A fire will help, you'll see. We don't need to leave; we're happy here."

Zhenya shivered in the blast of cold air when Sid kicked back the blankets. He gathered them to cover his body. He knew he should say something more, argue with Sid about leaving. When they had decided to stay, it was because the cabin was safer than the drive. Without power, the calculation shifted.

But the fresh memory of Sid's biting anger at the idea held Zhenya back from speaking. He had kept Sid company through concussions before. He had seen Sid's moods swing from upbeat to sullen, but rarely—maybe even never—had he heard Sid snap quite like that.

Instead of pressing further, Zhenya got up. Across the room, Sid was messing with the fireplace, poking around at it. He paid no mind when Zhenya dragged the comforter with him, wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, to the window.

The snow line stood at least a foot above ground level. Zhenya could barely see the car—only a hill of white with side mirrors sticking out.

A match strike hissed behind Zhenya. He turned to find Sid touching the flame to the kindling in the fireplace. His eyes turned almost involuntarily to the bedroom door, hanging ajar. With another glance at Sid, Zhenya started silently toward it.

"Where are you going?" Sid asked before Zhenya could reach the door.

"Phone."

"You don't need your phone—we have a fire."

"Sid. I think I need call Dr. Vyas." Zhenya said it as gently as he could, but he could sense the tension of Sid's mood in the air.

"Why?" Sid asked, bait on a hook waiting for Zhenya to swallow before revealing more of his anger. He approached slowly, like a stalking panther.

"To check in," Zhenya lied. "He asked—"

"You promised you would stay with me."

"I'll come right back."

But it was too late. Sid reached him and extended a hand to lock around Zhenya's wrist. "You promised. After we sleep."

Zhenya's words in the shower came rushing back to him—that they could fool around in the morning. He had only said it to placate, hoping that Sid would rest and forget. Waking up without power, he thought surely Sid would have other priorities.

But apparently not. Sid's free hand cupped Zhenya's soft dick as he lifted up on his toes—they were nearly eye to eye. When Sid leaned forward to kiss Zhenya, his lips were cold. Zhenya's logical brain told him it was only because the house was freezing. Maybe some residual shock from a concussion. Nothing that couldn't be logically explained.

The primal part of him wrestled away from the logical explanations, but that part was an idiot. Zhenya was spooked by old memories and projecting onto Sid's injury. It was not the time for him to freak out. Sid needed him.

In more ways than one, it appeared. Sid's hand caressed Zhenya's dick, coaxing it into hardness through the thin cotton of his boxers. His lips, busy and insistent against Zhenya's, were starting to warm from the contact.

Sid nudged Zhenya toward the bed without breaking their kiss and pushed Zhenya down onto it. He stood above Zhenya, eyes wide while he soaked in the sight of Zhenya's body, then clambered on top of him.

"I want to fuck you," Sid said. Zhenya could feel the hard length of Sid's dick sliding against him. "Can I?"

"Sid, it's too cold."

"There's a fire," Sid said. "Please, I want to."

"Fine," Zhenya said, twisting away to get the lube. When Sid made no move to take it away from him, he kicked off his boxers, spread his own legs, and started on prep himself.

"Beautiful," Sid said, running his fingertips down Zhenya's leg. "I've waited so long."

"Shut up," Zhenya said with two fingers inside himself. "It take more than three seconds."

Sid smiled like he didn't get a joke but wanted to play along. He lifted Zhenya's foot up and pressed his mouth to the inside of his ankle. His eyes stayed hot on Zhenya's face as he shuffled around, knee-walking up between his legs.

Zhenya's knuckles brushed the head of Sid's dick, breaking his concentration. He pulled his fingers out of himself to reach for the lube, ready to slick Sid up and get the party going.

Before he could touch the bottle, Sid's dick nudged against him. He instinctively wormed away from the potential intrusion. "Not yet," he complained, reaching again for the bottle. He got it this time and popped the cap.

Sid's hands wrapped around Zhenya's thighs. Usually, Zhenya loved how strong Sid felt, the solid warmth of his muscles under his skin. Now, the cool feel of those same muscles curving around his legs felt like snakes. Sid used the grip to yank Zhenya back into place.

"Hey," Zhenya protested, raising the bottle in _another_ reminder, but Sid wasn't looking at his face anymore. He had salacious eyes locked onto Zhenya's nether regions, where he again lined his dick up against Zhenya's hole. Zhenya decided the best course would be to hurry up with the lube. He reached between them to sloppily coat Sid's dick and could barely withdraw his hand before Sid pushed inside.

In the three years they had been together, Sid's attitude toward sex had never changed. Zhenya wouldn't call him boring, per se. He was very inventive at times. But his ultimate goal was always the same—a safe, fun time for them both. He was more giving than selfish, more gentle than firm, and always willing to listen.

Zhenya couldn't see that person in the man grunting on top of him. Sid snapped his hips, driving into Zhenya right away with a bruising kind of—not _pain_ , but discomfort. He made no effort to help ease the way, merely dove in and started going for it like a dog humping a couch cushion.

Zhenya reached his breaking point when he felt down between them and found his own dick soft and uninterested. He played with it for a while, casting around in his mind for some fantasy that might get him going, but ultimately let go with a sigh. Instead, he tapped Sid's shoulder.

"Stop, one minute."

Sid swatted his hand away and kept going.

"Sid, stop. I need to—"

Sid reared back and abruptly clamped a hand around Zhenya's throat. His hips never stopped moving as his fingers tightened. Zhenya smacked futilely at his arm, tapping at first to signal that breath play was _not_ on the menu, then hitting. Sid paid him no mind at all, face scrunching as he concentrated on fucking Zhenya as hard as he could.

Tears began to blur Zhenya's vision, but not enough to miss the way Sid's eyes turned to gold just before he groaned and slumped over Zhenya. He finally released Zhenya's throat.

"Oh my god, Zhenya," Sid panted. Zhenya's blood ran cold. Never—not once in the whole time they'd known each other—had Sid ever called him Zhenya. "That was amazing. I've always wanted to try, and it was wonderful."

Five minutes ago, Zhenya might have scolded Sid for trying a new kink without any warning. But with the rush of oxygen came clarity. The flashes of gold in Sid's eyes weren't figments of a terrified imagination—they were glimpses of the real thing underneath Sid's face, the thing that called him Zhenya instead of Geno.

Zhenya couldn't tell Sid _anything_ because Sid wasn't in the room with him. Sid wasn't breathing heavily on top of him, clammy skin pressed against his—like a worm. Zhenya's stomach pitched with sudden nausea.

“We should do it again,” Sid—no, the _thing_ sighed.

"I need to pee," Zhenya said firmly. For a moment, he worried the wild thing in Sid's body wouldn't move for him, but eventually, it rolled away. Zhenya made his escape into the bathroom and locked the door before he slid down against it, heart racing.

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he had lost Sid in the mountains. For almost a full day, Zhenya had been sharing space instead with the thing in the bedroom. His insides twisted into painful knots as he recalled all the things they'd done. He'd showered with it, had sex with it.

And what about Sid? If the thing out there was using Sid's body, where was his mind?

A horrible theory flitted across Zhenya's mind. Sid was cold all the time. Like a corpse. Was he—could he be—

Zhenya wouldn't allow himself to finish the thought. Even without it, his eyes were burning with the threat of horrified tears. He covered his face to muffle the sniffling and felt as lost as he had when he was twelve.

Knuckles rapped against the door, and Zhenya jerked his head up. The doorknob rattled. "Where did you go?"

Zhenya sniffled and rubbed his eyes.

"Zhenya," Sid's voice said.

It had been years since Zhenya had heard his grandmother's stories about wild things. He cast his mind back to her warnings, grasping for something that might help him escape. 

Zhenya couldn't remember his grandmother's face, not clearly. But he remembered her perfume, the way her house always smelled like cooking. He could recall the stories she told him while she stirred soup or swept the floor—stories of the wild things. There were all kinds, she said. Some were giants, others tiny. They could be violent or seem nice. And some could even pretend to be human. 

Zhenya remembered the name his grandmother gave the ones in the woods that stole people's faces—mimics. And in front of a fire, with a faraway look in her eyes, she told him the secret, his only chance to escape.

"You can never let them know you're onto them, child. As long as they think they're fooling you, they're happy."

Zhenya's eyes snapped open when something slammed into the door hard enough to jostle him.

"Zhenya, open the door!"

Zhenya didn't have his phone. He needed to call for help to get out of the driveway in the blizzard. He couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. There was only one thing he could do—go out there and pretend until he could get away and get help.

It took three tries for Zhenya to convince himself to unlock the door. When he opened it, Sid practically tackled him.

"Don't leave me like that again."

Zhenya forced his arms to close around Sid. "I was only in the bathroom," he said in Russian, testing, hoping he was wrong. If Sid teased him, complained about not understanding, maybe Zhenya could chalk it up to his head injury. Maybe he could convince himself he was imagining things.

"You have to stay with me," Sid's voice responded in accentless Russian. Zhenya's hope popped like a pricked balloon. "You're mine."

Disgust roiled through Zhenya as the wild thing clutched at him, fingers digging hard into his skin. He said nothing, unwilling to give anything away. Standing in the arms of a monster, it was all he could do not to follow the urges of his feet and run.

///

With the power off, Zhenya could do little else but sit by the fire wrapped in blankets. The sun was fully up, allowing light to pour in through the windows, but the eerie quiet of the house fought against the brightness.

The wild thing sat in the corner, cloaked in shadow, and watched him. Zhenya felt the itch of its stare even though he tried not to look directly at it. Each time he moved, the thing would move too, reacting to his motions as if to stop him from escaping. Zhenya snorted to himself—like he could get anywhere before he froze.

Zhenya's stomach rumbled, irritable about the lateness of breakfast. He turned toward the door and heard the rustle when the wild thing moved, too.

"Are you leaving?" it asked with Sid's voice.

"I need to get food, bring to here. We can't cook, but maybe there is like cereal. Something."

"I'll go."

"No," Zhenya said, testing the limits of his control over the situation when he stood up. "It's okay, I get."

Zhenya refused to break eye contact until the wild thing eased itself back down into a crouch. Then he moved toward the door.

The rest of the house was considerably colder than the bedroom. He felt sure the pipes would freeze if the outage lasted more than a day, and the owner would have to replace them. He huddled deep in his blanket to cross the den into the kitchen, where he beelined for the pantry.

Zhenya snagged two boxes of granola bars and a six-pack of Gatorade to take upstairs. His stomach made an angry rumble, and he opened one of the bars right away to take a big bite.

When he turned around, Sid's body was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Zhenya jumped. "What the fuck?" he snapped, momentarily off his guard enough to yell at the monster.

"You were gone a long time," it said.

"It's been one minute."

The wild thing shrugged with Sid's shoulders. "I missed you. Did you find what you wanted?"

"Yes. No. I look for cereal, but this is okay," Zhenya said, lifting the box of granola bars for example.

"Cereal?" the wild thing asked. In its ignorance, it seemed almost innocent—endlessly curious like a child.

A child that had done something to Sid, maybe even—Zhenya shook his head. If he let that thought carry through, he would break. His grandmother's words pounded like a drumbeat in his head—never let them know you're onto them.

"Do you want something else?" Zhenya asked. He had no idea what a wild thing might eat, other than maybe him.

The wild thing shook its head. "No, that's fine."

Zhenya packed his disgusted feelings down like a trash compactor and pulled out another granola bar. He tossed it at the wild thing, who caught it with both hands and stared at it with wide eyes.

When Zhenya lifted the trashcan lid to discard his granola bar wrapper, he spotted a few shards of what looked like dark glass. He glanced at the wild thing—it was busy turning the wrapped granola bar in its hands—and moved a paper towel to confirm his fear. His phone was a crumpled and shattered mess in the trashcan, unusable.

Zhenya swallowed down a wave of panic. He threw away the packaging and closed the trashcan lid.

Leaving the wild thing struggling with the granola bar wrapper, Zhenya went to the windows and peered out at the snow. It was piled up against the house, three feet deep where the wind had pushed it into mounds, but it wouldn't be that bad everywhere. If he could dig the car out, he could maybe get down the driveway.

A hand closed on Zhenya's hip. He slammed his eyes shut as the cold lips of Sid's imposter pressed against the back of his neck.

"What are you looking at?"

"Snow," Zhenya said, feeling as bleak as the expanse of white outside.

Another hand came to rest on his other hip and pressed. Zhenya reluctantly turned away from the snowy landscape to face the demon. It smiled genially and leaned up to nuzzle into his throat. Zhenya tensed and held his breath, but it only licked a cold line up to his jawline.

"We're trapped here," the wild thing said. It sounded happy.

"I know," Zhenya replied, tongue thick with misery. He couldn't open his mouth too much. He was afraid of what he might say, that he wouldn't be able to resist asking whether Sid was okay somewhere, whether he might be alive.

"Well," it continued. "What should we do now?"

Zhenya shivered at the leer in the wild thing's eyes. Now that he was looking, he was sure that he could see the flecks of gold hidden in the irises. 

"We should get back to fire," Zhenya said firmly, praying he could hold off on anything more intimate. "It's too cold. We need to wait, be warm. Maybe power comes back soon."

The wild thing pouted but allowed Zhenya to move away. It heeled behind him like a loyal dog, trailing him back to the bedroom. Zhenya snagged a book from Sid's bag. He wouldn't usually read in English, but he hadn't brought anything. Reading was a far better prospect than pointedly trying not to look the thing in the eyes while it stared at him.

The power did not come back.

Zhenya was a third of the way through his book when the wild thing detached itself from the shadows and curled around him. It set sharp teeth into his ear, and he flinched. 

"No, knock it off," Zhenya said. He was amazed his voice didn't shake and even more shocked when his admonishment worked. The wild thing slunk away and settled at Zhenya's feet, only occasionally reaching out to touch him.

Zhenya managed to hold the wild thing off until evening, redirecting it each time it pulled at his clothes or trapped him against a counter to kiss him.

But the power stayed off, and the sun went down. Zhenya had to put aside the book when the light faded too much to see it. The wild thing perked at his sudden lack of distraction. 

Zhenya braced himself as he prepared for bed. He knew the wild thing wanted him, and it would have him. If their morning tryst was anything to go by, it would not stop at his protests. He couldn't hold it off any longer. 

Instead of shying away or protesting, Zhenya went to bed determined. He didn't wait for it to make a move. He took charge and wrapped a hand around the wild thing's dick before it could consider anything else. It was the last time, Zhenya told himself as he expertly jerked the thing to completion. The snow had stopped. In the morning, somebody would come to plow the snow away, and he would get out.

///

As soon as he heard the snowplows coming down the main road, Zhenya knew it was almost time. It was late morning. He had filled his waking hours with eating his granola bar breakfast, stoking the fire, and pacing to keep warm, all while easing away from the cold, vile touch of the thing in Sid's body. When he heard the call of freedom, his heart raced with anticipation.

When he got up to go look, the wild thing detached itself from the shadows and slithered after him, unwilling to let him get more than a few feet away. Zhenya ran a hand along the window glass to clear some of the frost. The wild thing watched him and then followed suit. Where its hand touched, the frost stayed. Its skin wasn’t warm enough to affect the thin layer of frozen moisture.

Zhenya looked out toward the road. He could only see trees, but the distant hum of the plow gave him hope. 

Shivering through the night, Zhenya had been given ample time to brainstorm his escape. He knew from his excursions to the bathroom and kitchen that the wild thing would only give him about two minutes from the time he left the bedroom before it came to find him. That meant he would have to wait until the homeowners sent their hired snowplow down the driveway before he went for the car.

And in the meantime, he had to act like everything was normal.

The wild thing brushed a hand over Zhenya’s back and down, cupping his ass. Zhenya fought with himself not to turn and run. Or punch the thing in the mouth. Either one would alert it to his suspicion. Instead, Zhenya gave an exaggerated shiver. 

“It’s too cold,” he said pointedly, returning to his blanket. He thought he could get away with a few more excuses before it started to insist. Hopefully, that would buy enough time for the plow to get down the driveway.

The wild thing followed on Zhenya’s heels and wrapped around him in front of the fire. Zhenya gritted his teeth against a wave of nausea when the thing touched his face, the cold, clammy fingers crawling down his cheek and into his hair. He would need a hundred showers if his plan worked, if he got out. 

His mind tried to turn to Sid but he forced it away. He needed to focus on what he could control, clear his mind of anything out of his hands. Thankfully, it was a practiced technique, perfected over years of high-stakes hockey games. He couldn’t force the goalie to make a crucial save. He couldn’t position the defensemen. Zhenya could only see his own path on the ice, and it was the only one that mattered. He would worry about Sid once he got away from the house. 

When the hum of a distant plow engine grew closer, coming down the driveway, the wild thing lifted its head off Zhenya’s lap and cocked it. "What is that?"

"Nothing," Zhenya said through his dry mouth. "Maybe just come fix power. Make it warm."

"Warm." Sid's doppelgänger said the word like it was dirty.

Zhenya swallowed down his disgust. He needed to pretend, to make the thing believe him. He forced his face into an approximation of a teasing smile. "Well, if you want have sex, I need it warm. Not everyone can be in cold all the time."

The wild thing perked up at that. Nausea rolled Zhenya's stomach while he prayed for his plan to work, that he wouldn't have to touch the thing sexually again.

When the plow buzzed close to the house, Zhenya’s heart raced. He would have one shot. Without looking out, he had to time it just right. The plow would need two passes to clear the whole driveway, but one side would do. Zhenya could wait until it reached the house—praying that it didn’t further bury the car in the process—and then move. 

The wild thing snuck a hand over Zhenya’s thigh and up toward his crotch. Zhenya, distracted by listening to the position of the plow, jumped when it touched his balls through his pants. When he did, he spilled his bottle of red Gatorade all over the white carpet. 

“Shit,” Zhenya said out of old engrained habit. He didn’t really care about the carpet—he could more than afford the damages. He would buy the whole house if it meant getting the fuck out of it and never returning. 

But the exclamation gave him an idea. He watched the red spill spread out over the carpet and listened. The plow engine was pulling away. 

Zhenya scrambled up. “I need to get cleaner for this,” he said, gesturing at the red spill. “You hold towel, okay?” he ducked into the bathroom and came back with a towel, shoving it into the wild thing’s hands. It looked bewildered. “Hold on spill, like this.”

Zhenya put the towel over the spill and placed the wild thing’s hands on top of it. 

“I be right back, one second,” he said, hoping he sounded sincere and not excited. 

Thankfully, the wild thing allowed him to rush out of the room without resisting.

Zhenya raced down the stairs and didn’t even pretend he was going for the kitchen to get carpet cleaner. He snatched up his coat and shrugged into it while stepping into his boots, then yanked open the front door. He could see the plow retreating in the distance, pushing the snow away from the left side of the driveway. The right side was clear. He was free. He could leave.

Zhenya wadded through the deep snow on the front path, praying the car would be clear enough. When it came into sight, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. The plow and cut close to the rear of the SUV, clearing a path to back up. Zhenya swept just enough snow off the windshield to see and jumped behind the wheel. He felt giddy as he touched the push-button start.

Nothing happened.

Zhenya’s heart sank. He pushed the button again in the desperate hope that maybe it would work, but the car didn’t respond. Zhenya’s mind raced for an explanation as he dug into his coat for the key, knowing he left it in the right pocket.

Zhenya jumped at a swishing sound against the driver window. It was covered in snow, blinding him to the source of the sound, but he soon caught sight of it. A hand waved back and forth, clearing the snow away to reveal the window underneath. Beyond the hand, Zhenya filled with dread at the sight of the wild thing.

In the blinding light from the snow, Sid's dark eyes were no more. They were entirely gold. The wild thing stopped clearing the window and held up its hand, an angry mockery of a greeting. The car key dangled from its middle finger.

"Shit," Zhenya said to himself. He had bet everything on one chance and lost. The wild thing knew he was wise to it now. He wasn’t sure what it would do with that information, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

“Where are you going, Zhenya?”

Zhenya twisted around to look down the driveway. He could no longer see the plow around the bend, but he could still distantly hear it. It was too far to help him, even if the driver could tell what was going on. 

The wild thing sauntered closer to the window, with its face nearly against the glass. Zhenya stared at its glowing, golden eyes, face-to-face with his childhood nightmare.

But Zhenya wasn’t a child. He was a grown man—an athlete. He was stronger than most people. Even if this thing wasn’t a person, Zhenya still might stand a chance in a fair fight. 

If he cheated, he might stand even more of one. 

Zhenya steeled himself for his stupid idea to fail and backfire. He shuffled around, braced his boot against the door, and yanked the handle. When the latch let go, Zhenya kicked as hard as he could, slamming the heavy car door into the wild thing’s body.

Zhenya didn't look back to see if the wild thing fell. He had one chance to escape, only a few seconds of hope. He jumped out and ran.

The logic part of Zhenya's brain yelled at him—he was being an idiot. The wild thing had crossed continents when it realized he was back in the mountains—no way it couldn't beat him in a 200-meter sprint. And even if he got to the plow—then what? Why would a wild thing stop for a plow driver when it wouldn't stop for Zhenya?

Zhenya's heart didn't listen to any of that. It only beat for one thing—to run.

Zhenya was halfway to the bend in the drive when he heard the roar behind him. He didn't look back, only clenched his fists and kept sprinting. If the wild thing wanted him, it would have to drag him to the house kicking and screaming.

The plow came into view, and Zhenya felt a desperate surge of hope. "Hey!" he called, waving at it.

The plow didn't stop, so Zhenya kept running. Behind him, he could hear the snap of branches, the howl of the wind.

He was nearly to the back wheel of the plow when the claws caught him. They ripped into his thigh and sent him crashing into the densely-packed snow bank left behind from the plow.

"I told you not to leave me!"

Zhenya turned painfully to look. Sid's face was—melting. It was as though the loss of control had stripped the wild thing of its ability to copy him. Its voice, too. It was no longer Sid's voice, but the high-pitched voice of a child.

"You said you would stay with me!" the wild thing screamed. "You promised!"

"No, I never—"

"You gave me your name! That's a promise, Zhenya."

"No—"

"Yes! Those are the rules! You have to play by the rules!"

The wild thing approached. Its hands were neither Sid's nor a child's, but long and bent with gnarled claws—like a Hollywood werewolf. Zhenya scooted back up the snowbank to get away.

"I never gave you my name," he said in Russian. "You took it from my father."

The wild thing hissed. Its teeth were sharp points in a mouth that no longer looked like Sid's. It had—not lips, but something else. Like a frog. Its eyes were bright gold and angry.

Up the driveway, another engine revved, and Zhenya turned hopefully to look. The plow had stopped. The door hung open where the driver was climbing out to see what the commotion was, but past that. There was a car. It was coming up the driveway—the homeowners?

The car honked as it grew closer and sped up. Zhenya turned to scramble away from the wild thing and out of the way as the car accelerated. He stumbled over the mound of snow and slipped down toward the trees surrounding the driveway.

From his fallen position out of sight, Zhenya heard the impact when the car hit the wild thing. It cried out, thumped in the snow, and then everything went quiet.

In the silence, Zhenya held perfectly still, waiting. He couldn't see anything from his place on the other side of the plowed mountain of snow. His thigh burned where the claws of the wild thing had ripped through his pants, but he dared not turn to look at the damage.

Zhenya held his breath, frozen in terror that the wild thing would survive the impact. He envisioned it cresting the snow pile, crawling toward him with its melted features and clammy skin.

A car door opened. Zhenya heard each of the driver's feet crunch down into the snow, one then the other.

"Geno!" Sid's voice called out.

Zhenya's heart might have burst from the amount of joy that abruptly filled it. He panted for breath as he moved to crawl back to the road, forcing his damaged leg to move through sheer force of will.

Sid was standing in the door of the sedan, looking worriedly around. When he laid eyes on Zhenya—his beautiful, brown eyes—he lurched forward. "G, oh my god."

They clung to each other in the cold until the crunch of shuffling footsteps announced the plow driver's approach. "You two okay?"

"Yeah," Zhenya said.

"Where's that other fella?"

Zhenya looked back fearfully, wondering the same thing, but the wild thing was gone.

///

The plow driver gave them a ride into town. With the keys to the rented SUV missing, disappeared with the wild thing, and the sedan wrecked, they had no other means of transport. Neither was willing to stay and wait for a mechanic.

They didn't talk much in the plow. Sid fussed at first over the scratches on Zhenya's thigh, but he quickly found that the wounds were shallow. Even a highly conservative doctor wouldn’t order stitches for them. Sid fell silent after that, holding Zhenya’s hand between them in the back seat. For his part, Zhenya was too busy swiveling his head around to talk, searching for a monster in the tree line. 

They waited for an Uber at a Target in town. Zhenya didn’t care about much else but hiding inside the doors and staring suspiciously at the mountains, but Sid’s years of media savvy kicked in after the third curious stare in their direction. He disappeared inside the store and came back with a plain grey hoodie and black track pants, then ushered Zhenya into the bathroom to clean up as best he could before their ride to the airport. 

“This look like something you will wear,” Zhenya said wryly in the mirror, pulling at his sweatshirt. Something about being in clean clothes put him back on even footing, as though wiping the blood off his leg released him from a nightmare and dropped him back in the real world.

“Sorry, G,” Sid said, tossing Zhenya’s discarded clothes in the trash. “I couldn’t find the Dolce and Gabbana section.”

The small, teasing fight brought some much-needed normality to their interaction. They returned to the front of the store to meet the Uber with some of the weight lifted from their backs.

Still, Zhenya didn't settle down completely until they were on a plane with the wheels up, heading home.

"I'll have someone go get the car after we land," Sid said. His thigh was warm where it pressed against Zhenya's uninjured one. "Well, both cars, I guess."

"Where you get other car?" Zhenya asked. His knee was bouncing. Sid slid a hand over it, soothing it still.

"I rented it when I got out of the hospital."

"You're in hospital?" Zhenya cried, alarmed that Sid hadn't mentioned it before.

"After that—whatever the hell that thing was—attacked me, I woke up off the trail. I managed to get down far enough to run into a couple of hikers. They got me the rest of the way and called an ambulance. I was pretty out of it."

Zhenya circled his arm around Sid and nuzzled against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

“You’re sorry?” Sid said, huffing a disbelieving laugh. "I let them take me. I just—went along, got in the ambulance. I tried to tell the cops to go find you when I got to the ER, but—turns out, they don't listen to people with recent head injuries when they're talking about monsters in the woods. And by the time the hospital let me go, the roads were closed. I was trying to get back to you, G. I—"

"Shh," Zhenya soothed. "I know. You come for me. I'm happy you're okay."

Sid kissed him and pressed his forehead to Zhenya's. "I was so worried about you."

"How you know it go with me?"

"Uh, well. When it jumped me, it said some things. It seemed pretty obsessed with you. That and it looked just like me. I could pretty much take a guess—crazy as it seemed."

Zhenya closed his eyes as a swell of emotion came over him. "Crazy," he agreed. His voice sounded strained to his own ears. Sid tipped his chin up to kiss him. His lips were warm and soft. Zhenya chased the comfort of his mouth when he tried to pull back.

They kissed until Zhenya forgot the cold, froggy feeling of the wild thing's tongue against his. Zhenya angled to get his hands on every part of Sid, creeping up his shirt to feel how his ticklish stomach jumped, circling his sensitive nipples. Sid responded exactly how Zhenya expected—beautifully familiar.

His response to Zhenya's hand cupping his dick was predictable, too.

"Geno," Sid warned, reaching for his hand as his eyes turned toward the pilot. The barrier was closed between the cabin and the cockpit, out of sight. Honestly, Zhenya wouldn't have cared if the pilot was sitting across from them, watching. He craved the comfort of Sid's warm skin against his.

"Let me," Zhenya said, knowing that Sid would cave.

Sure enough, Sid slowly released his hand and spread his legs to give Zhenya access to do whatever he wanted. Zhenya took full advantage of the permission. He sank down to kneel between Sid's legs, ignoring the burn in his scratched thigh, and unbuttoned Sid's pants with trembling fingers.

Sid's cock felt hot against Zhenya's mouth. He rubbed the smooth head across his lips and tongue, more relieved than turned on. Sid's thighs jumped under his hands while Zhenya took his time suckling at his cock head, but he never pushed. His fingers combed through Zhenya's hair without expectation, allowing Zhenya to use his mouth however he wanted.

Zhenya sucked Sid's dick until his jaw started to hurt. He pushed himself through the ache in his jaw and the burn in his thigh, ignoring his own needy dick in favor of wringing barely-muffled groans out of Sid. With the rush of Sid's release across his tongue, Zhenya felt euphoric freedom. He clambered up without shame to straddle Sid's lap, tugged his sweats down only enough to free his dick, and fucked into Sid’s tight grip until he came with a shuddering series of sounds that the pilot could definitely hear. 

In the boneless afterglow, Sid cleaned them both up and gathered Zhenya close to kiss his temple. “Your leg okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just, like. Scratch. Nothing serious.”

“That’s not how the team is going to see it,” Sid said. His voice wanted to stay light, but Zhenya could clearly hear the stress underneath. Sid was right—they would be returning to tell the team that, instead of a long rest to prepare for the last three months of the season, they would both be out of the lineup. 

After everything, Zhenya didn’t think he would sympathize much with the team’s frustration. The Penguins were lucky they were returning at all, that both of them survived.

"You think it dead?" Zhenya asked, breaking the silence with the hesitant question.

Sid pulled in a big breath and let it out, considering. "I don't know. I didn't see where it went after I hit it."

Zhenya snuggled closer, sheltering himself as much as possible in the safety of Sid's body.

"You knew what it was, huh? You knew before—that's why you didn't want to go."

"I think it's just story," Zhenya said. “If I know for real I would say, no way we go there.”

"You know it only lives in the mountains?"

Zhenya nodded.

"Well, then. I think—even if it _is_ dead, maybe next year, we go to Miami."

Zhenya snorted. "Okay, sound good. Maybe every year."

"Yeah," Sid said, his dark eyes crinkling up at the corners when he smiled. "Every year. No more mountains."

It sounded perfectly fine to Zhenya.

**Author's Note:**

> My beta and I went back and forth a lot on whether this should have a "true" horror ending, one where the Sid Zhenya ends up with is actually still the mimic. But ultimately we agreed that 2020 has enough going on. In this year when we all need a lift, horror stories can end on a happy note.


End file.
